Home with the Cowboy

by Mary Sue Jackson

  Uncle James blinked, looked at Daniel, then laughed. “Right you are, little lady. Get to it!” His smile turned embarrassed. “I’d offer to help, but we both know my old bones are useless when it comes to farm work.”

  Daniel clapped his uncle on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. Willa, grab your coat and put on some boots. There should be a small pair in the closet you can use.”

  By the time Willa and Daniel were outside, the rain had let up a little, the storm passing along toward the east. Willa just hoped they wouldn’t get another hailstorm. Getting conked on the head by a huge ball of ice did not sound at all appealing.

  “Right, I need you to hold up the fence right here as I mend it. I already disconnected the electric wire, so don’t worry about that. See the cows out there? They’ve been moving this way quickly, especially with the storm going on. If we don’t get this done in time, they’ll stampede right on through the fence to the corn.”

  Daniel’s face was grim but determined. Willa nodded, keeping hold of the fence—something that was heavier than it looked—as Daniel crouched in the wet mud and began to work. Rain dripped into Willa’s eyes, but she couldn’t wipe it away. The humidity made her raincoat stick to her bare arms, and she couldn’t tell if the water dripping down her back was rain or sweat. Probably both.

  “Hold that post up straight. Higher. Yeah, like that.” Daniel pulled a nail that he’d had between his lips and began hammering. The jolting of the hammer went up Willa’s arms, but she clenched her jaw and held on.

  Over Daniel’s shoulder, she could see the cows getting closer. It was like a brown and white mass; not one cow staying behind or going off on their own. Over the sounds of the now distant thunder, she could hear their lowing.

  “Daniel, they’re getting closer,” she warned. Now she could make out individual cows. The one at the front had horns that Willa did not want to get too close to.

  “Almost finished.” Daniel nailed another piece together before whooping, “Done! You can let it go now.”

  Willa did, almost reluctantly, but the post stayed up. She let out a deep sigh of relief as she surveyed the now mended fence.

  Daniel grinned at her as he took in her wet clothes and muddy boots. She probably looked a fright.

  “Let’s get inside before we get blown away,” he said.

  As Willa followed Daniel inside, she was once again struck by how very wet he was, and how his shirt clung to him. Did the man have muscles upon muscles? She watched a drop of rain trail down the nape of his neck to his shirt collar, and her mind instantly wanted to taste that raindrop on her tongue.

  Down, girl. No licking the cowboy!

  Daniel took his boots off on the porch, and Willa did the same. When she took off her raincoat, stylish enough for New York city streets but no match for a Texas gully washer, she saw that rain had somehow gotten through anyway, soaking her shirt all the way through.

  Daniel had also noticed. His eyes had narrowed, his gaze intense, and Willa felt her nipples tighten under that heated look. It didn’t help that her shirt was basically see-through at this point.

  She could see the struggle in Daniel’s face. He leaned toward her. Would he kiss her? Her heart pounded.

  But he just said, “Get inside before you freeze.” Then he turned away.

  She gaped after him, feeling foolish. She must’ve imagined his interest. God, she was an idiot!

  Willa made her dripping way to Bobby’s room where her things were, changed into dry clothes, and went back into the living room. Bobby had fallen asleep on the couch, Uncle James watching the local news next to him on a low volume.

  “Where’s Daniel?” she asked quietly as she sat down next to Bobby.

  “Taking a shower. You two fix that fence?”

  “We did.” Pride filled Willa, and then she remembered: her flight! How could she have forgotten that, of all things?

  She glanced at the time and knew that the plane was long gone. She’d have to reschedule with Grayson—again. She grabbed her phone to see three missed calls and two voicemails, as if Grayson already knew that she’d missed her flight. Grimacing, she listened to both, knowing she’d have to do some major groveling to get back on Grayson’s good side.

  Call me when you get this, he said in the second voicemail. Although you’ll have to leave me a message because I’ll be interviewing the other candidate for the next hour.

  Willa left Grayson a voicemail, apologizing profusely, hoping that they could reschedule.

  Daniel came into the living room ten minutes later, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair wet from his shower.

  “The little lady tells me that you fixed the fence all right,” said Uncle James.

  Daniel nodded, his gaze still on Willa. “We did. Without her help, the corn would’ve been cow pies in no time.”

  “And here we thought you could only paint! You have some farming skills, Miss Markson. Must be your Texas roots,” drawled Uncle James. His voice echoed with pride.

  “She’s definitely not merely an artist,” said Daniel, all seriousness. “Thank you again, Willa. I couldn’t have done that without your help.”

  Willa felt a blush climb to her cheeks.

  She barely heard Uncle James clear his throat beside her. The old man added, getting up from his seat, “Well, I should be going now that the storm has let up. I just wanted to stop by to say hi. You two have a good evening.” He tipped his hat to Willa and headed out.

  “I’ll get dinner started.” Willa got up and pushed past Daniel.

  Dinner, she could do. It was easier than thinking about why she wanted Daniel Gunn to kiss her.

  Twelve

  Willa had only been away from New York for a month, but she couldn’t help the feeling that she couldn’t recognize the city she loved. She coughed from the cigarette smoke wafting from fellow pedestrians, and everything was so loud. She could barely hear her own thoughts above the din. If it wasn’t someone yelling or laughing, it was someone laying on their car horn and tires screeching in the streets.

  By the time Willa arrived at Sensation, she wondered if she’d made a big mistake in taking this interview despite everything that had happened. But she pushed that thought aside. This was her dream, and she was tired from traveling. It’d be stupid to read more into the situation than that.

  It took twenty minutes for Grayson to emerge from his office. The gallery owner was of average height and build, his face neither ugly nor handsome, but he had that slick city look about him that made him seem important. It helped that his clothes were expensive and expertly tailored, and his watch had probably cost more than Willa had ever made in a year.

  An unbidden thought came to her mind of Daniel. Daniel probably bought new clothes once every five years, and only out of necessity. What would he think of somebody like Grayson?

  “You’re here. Finally.” Grayson didn’t smile or extend his hand in greeting but simply waved at Willa to follow him. “I thought you weren’t ever going to get out of Tennessee.”

  “Texas,” corrected Willa. She almost had to sprint to keep up with Grayson. “I’m so sorry again about rescheduling, but I so appreciate that you’re willing to interview me—”

  Grayson waved a lazy hand. “I don’t have time for this.” He picked up a folder off of his desk and handed it to her. “I need you to catalogue these items here in the gallery. They’re all in the closet in the back; you can ask Janine to let you in. We recently added a number of items, but my assistant has been on maternity leave, and she’s been unable to find the time to do it.” Grayson’s lip curled. “She’s stuck at home with a baby, doing nothing, so how long would it take her?”

  Willa decided not to answer that particular question. Flipping through the documents inside the folder, she felt her heart lighten. She’d missed this so much without even realizing it. If she could impress Grayson today—

  “Are you waiting for me, or are you just wasting time?” said Grayson.

>   Willa blushed. “Sorry. I’ll get started right away. When do you need this by?”

  Grayson shrugged. “Before three p.m., because that’s when I’m going home.”

  That gave Willa three hours. After Janine let her into the closet—more like a huge, airy room that was off-limits to guests—Willa flipped through the documents.

  Willa found the first item—a purple ceramic vase—and noted the artist and year that had already been scribbled onto the paper. But when Willa gently lifted the vase and noted the artist, she realized that the vase had been mislabeled on the document. Frowning, she crossed out what had already been written and wrote down the correct artist and year.

  It soon became apparent to Willa that someone had already tried cataloguing these items but had mixed them all up. A painting attributed to one artist was actually an entirely different artist’s work. There was even a box of jewelry that, when Willa looked more closely, she saw the contents had come from different jewelers instead of the one noted on the document.

  She groaned. She was supposed to just check off the items in the closet, not completely redo this person’s shoddy work! But knowing that if she tried to use that excuse on Grayson, she’d just get chewed out, Willa worked for three hours straight until everything was in order, not even taking a break to pee.

  When she gave her work over to Grayson, he simply tossed it on his desk without a glance at the sheaf of papers. Pulling on his jacket, he said, “I’ll have Janine call you to schedule the next part of the interview.”

  No thank you, no praise, not even criticism—nothing. Willa wished she could strangle the man. But at least he’d mentioned continuing the process, right? That meant she wasn’t out of the running.

  As Grayson was about to leave, though, an older woman stepped into his office, her chin high and her hair so big that Willa wondered if she might be from Texas. You didn’t see hair that big and blonde anywhere in New York, that was for sure.

  “Are you leaving?” the woman demanded of Grayson as he settled his jacket on his shoulders. “We had a meeting today!”

  “Did we? I distinctly remember telling Janine to cancel that.” Grayson moved past the woman without a second glance.

  The woman turned a dark shade of purple and marched after Grayson. “I give this gallery my money, and this is how you treat me? Like you can ignore me any time you want?”

  Grayson smiled slightly. “Mrs. Dennison, you don’t give us that much money. Besides, I have a more important meeting in Brooklyn right now. Talk to Janine about rescheduling.”

  Mrs. Dennison practically shook with indignation. “I’m not rescheduling a second time! I told you I wasn’t going to let you pawn me off. If you don’t want me to be a patron anymore, I won’t. I have better places to give my money.”

  Willa watched as Grayson scowled and Mrs. Dennison’s chin quivered with rage. Realizing the two were at a stalemate, she interjected, “Ma’am, I can help you reschedule your appointment with Mr. West.”

  Mrs. Dennison whirled. “I don’t want to reschedule! Are you deaf, girl?”

  “Mr. West wasn’t aware that he had an appointment with you today. I believe there must have been a misunderstanding, but I know he’d rather be able to give you his full attention at a later time than give you a short meeting right now.” Willa turned to Grayson. “Isn’t that right, Mr. West?”

  Surprise suffused Grayson’s expression, but he smoothed it over quickly. “Yes, of course. A misunderstanding.” He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll assist Mrs. Dennison?”

  “Of course,” said Willa cheerfully.

  Realizing she’d been expertly handled, Mrs. Dennison deflated. Willa led her to Janine at the front desk and helped her reschedule—or, rather, schedule for the first time—her appointment with Grayson. Willa couldn’t help but think of Sarah Nevarez, and about how she’d told Willa one day that you could make much more progress using honey to catch flies than using vinegar.

  It’s always temptin’ to use vinegar. Sometimes you wanna douse those flies in it. But killin’ the flies ain’t gonna help you, and so honey is your best bet.

  “By chance,” said Willa as Mrs. Dennison was about to depart, “are you from Texas?”

  Mrs. Dennison blinked and then laughed. “How could you tell? I thought I’d gotten rid of my accent!”

  “It might’ve been the hair,” she said wryly.

  Mrs. Dennison patted her mane of blonde hair. “Only another Texan would’ve noticed that. Well, no wonder you were so useful today. I don’t trust that Grayson as far as I can throw him, but if he’s smart enough to hire a Texas gal like you? Then he can’t be all bad.”

  “That was cleverly handled,” said Grayson as Willa exited the gallery.

  Willa hadn’t known Grayson had still been there, watching her. “Sir?”

  “I wasn’t so sure about you, especially with all this stuff you’ve been throwing out, but anyone who can get Mrs. Dennison to calm down is worth my time. I look forward to the next part of our interview.”

  Willa gaped at Grayson’s back as he hailed a taxi. A compliment—he’d complimented her! She barely restrained herself from doing a happy dance on the Manhattan sidewalk.

  Maybe she’d get this job after all!

  After finding a nearby place to have lunch, Willa went down to the water to calm her thoughts. But soon her phone rang, and her heart pinched when she saw that it was Daniel. God, she missed Bobby. She hadn’t thought a day away would be this painful, but it hit her like a ton of bricks right then.

  “Somebody has been asking for you,” said Daniel, his handsome face popping up on Willa’s phone. Daniel smiled as he moved so the screen showed Bobby. “It’s Wiwah, buddy.”

  Bobby stared into the phone as Willa waved. Then he said, “Wiwah! Where are you?”

  “I’m in New York, remember? But I’ll be back tomorrow, I promise.”

  Bobby’s lip quivered. “I want Wiwah. Where are you?” Tears welled in his eyes, but to Willa’s surprise, Daniel distracted the toddler with a toy fire truck before the tears could turn into a full-fledged tantrum.

  “You definitely need to come back,” he said with a wry smile, after putting the wiggly toddler down so Bobby could race the fire truck along the floor, imitating a siren. “How’d your interview go?”

  Touched that he’d ask, she told him that it hadn’t been so much an interview as seeing how she handled random projects. Daniel nodded thoughtfully, and when she told him about Mrs. Dennison, he laughed.

  “Sounds like you a made a good impression. You gonna have to go back soon?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know when.”

  Daniel’s expression closed, and Willa felt her heart contract painfully. If she actually got this job, then that would be it, wouldn’t it? She’d leave Bobby with his family, and she’d continue with her life.

  And she wouldn’t see Daniel Gunn ever again.

  Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she talked to Bobby once more before telling Daniel goodbye. Sitting by the water for a while longer, she wondered for the thousandth time if she was doing the right thing. Was it selfish to keep pursuing her dream when others needed her so badly? But Bobby wasn’t her son—he wasn’t even her blood. He was Daniel’s nephew, and Daniel needed to take the reins in caring for him.

  She knew that, but it didn’t help her feel less guilty. Suddenly wishing she were somewhere quieter and calmer, she rose and went to her hotel, looking forward for the first time in her life to getting back to Texas.

  Thirteen

  Daniel shaded his eyes as he watched Willa hang laundry on the line. Bobby sat at her feet, “helping” her by tossing the clean laundry from the basket onto the grass, which made Daniel laugh.

  For a brief moment, Daniel could almost imagine that Bobby was his son and Willa was his wife. He closed his eyes. The thought was so potent that it threatened to overwhelm him.

  He’d told himself for so many years that he was fine living by himself tha
t he’d truly come to believe it. After he’d broken up with Caroline, he’d vowed never to let himself fall so hard for a woman again.

  He and Caroline had dated all through high school. After his parents died, she’d stayed by his side, his comfort and his strength in a time when he’d desperately needed it. He’d thought she was the one with a capital T and a capital O. He’d proposed the day after their high school graduation.

  Caroline had been easy to love. She was pretty, vivacious, and loved by everyone. She had the kind of sparkling personality that other people gravitated toward. It helped that she came from a rich family—the richest in town, in fact—and she would throw parties all the time for her classmates.

  Daniel, a football player, but hardly the most popular guy in school, had been a little stunned when Caroline had agreed to go out with him in his senior year. It had been like someone had told him they’d give him the moon. And God Almighty, but to his teenage brain, Caroline had been the sun, the moon, and the stars. He’d loved her as fiercely and as purely as a kid who’d just lost his parents could.

  After Daniel’s parents had died, Caroline had kept asking him odd questions about the farm, but he hadn’t thought much about them. She hadn’t known a damn thing about farming. Daniel had thought she was just trying to be supportive.

  That was until the day Daniel had received an offer to sell his family’s beloved farm to a big agri company that had tried to get his parents to sell years prior. When Caroline had found out, she’d done her level best to get him to sell. We could get out of here. We could be rich. Who needs a farm? There aren’t any small farmers, anymore. Danny, do it for me?

  Daniel had almost given in, but he’d come to his senses. He’d soon realized that Caroline had wanted money—or at least the potential for a lot of money—more than she’d wanted Daniel himself. When he’d told her that he’d turned down the offer, she’d pulled the diamond he’d given her off her finger and thrown it in his face.